


after a long day

by doolray (grifs)



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Fake AH Crew, Late Night Confession, M/M, RT Writer's Community, Secret Sunshine, cw for excessive drinking, nothing too bad but jeremy is pretty drunk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-07-27 07:36:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20042284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grifs/pseuds/doolray
Summary: Ryan finds him on the sand nearly shaded by the wooden beams of the pier above.





	after a long day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [signifier](https://archiveofourown.org/users/signifier/gifts).

> courtney!! happy secret sunshine! i had fun writing this so i hope you enjoy, love from dangerouz dude :) <3
> 
> the prompt was "normal FAHC, jeremwood, a soft late night convo where feelings are revealed"

“Hiiiiii, Ryan.” 

Ryan rubs a hand across the bridge of his nose. “Hi, Jeremy. It’s 4 AM.”

“... it is?” The voice on the other end of the phone sounds vaguely distant, and Ryan can hear the city sounds, though he’s not fully sure if it’s from outside his own window or from the phone.

“What did you need?” It’s almost irritable - if it were anyone else on the end of the phone, Ryan would be mildly annoyed, but he can’t and won’t speak badly to Jeremy. 

“Can you come… pick me up?” Jeremy mutters, barely audible behind the apparent embarrassment in his voice. Ryan rubs a hand across his face, and sits up on the bed, swinging his legs out.

“How drunk are you?”

There’s a shuffling sound, then a solid thud of something small against concrete, and Jeremy curses in the background. Ryan guesses he’s just dropped the phone, and sighs again, because he must be that drunk.

“Jeremy?”

“Yeah, sorry, I… I am... at the pier.” He sighs with a happy, but clueless tone weaved through his words and evident in the slightly-too-long pauses. 

“At Del Perro?”

“Yeahhhhh. The beach.”

“Alright. Don’t die in between.” Ryan says, then hangs up before Jeremy can even say anything back. Sometimes, he wishes he were a stronger man. He stands quietly and pulls on a pair of sweatpants before grabbing his keys and heading down to his car. 

&&

Ryan finds him on the sand nearly shaded by the wooden beams of the pier above.

The faux-neon lights from the city illuminate his figure just enough for most of the crew to have been able to recognise that it’s Jeremy standing across the sand from them, bottle in hand, nothing but a t-shirt and jeans on in the biting cold. But Ryan had known as soon as he’d had a second to watch the pattern of his breathing, or caught a glimpse of the fidgeting thing he does with his hands, so familiar with the subtleties that come part and parcel with loving Jeremy.

Ryan guesses he’s tried to finish the bottle he’s holding in the time between calling Ryan to pick him up and Ryan actually arriving. He just laughs the first time Ryan tells him he’s here to take him home.

Ryan tries to call out to him again.

“Let’s just go h- wait, is that my shirt?” Ryan’s got an arm outstretched towards Jeremy, who looks as if he’s just barely staying on two feet. His coherent thoughts are stopped in their tracks—and, actually, it’s more like his coherent thoughts get forcefully derailed and then careen off the side of Chiliad, but that’s semantics—by the sight of Jeremy, smiling, with that stupidly adorable alcohol blush across his nose, and by the recognition that the shirt he’s wearing, which hangs off his frame just ever so slightly, is Ryan’s.

“Yeah, sorry… mine are all dirty.” It snaps him out of it, as Jeremy gazes down to the worn printed shirt that Ryan knows he’d accidentally left draped over a chair in the penthouse a few days ago.

“That’s… okay. Just, let’s get home, out of this cold.” Ryan says, kindly. He’d never dream of speaking harshly to any of his crew—particularly Jeremy.

“Alright.” Jeremy nods, finally walking towards Ryan. It’s not far to the spot he’d left his car, only a couple minutes walk down the beach. Jeremy doesn’t look like he’s stumbling too bad.

After a minute or two of silence, Jeremy stops.

“Ryan.” He says, so matter of fact and sure of himself that Ryan actually stops and turns to him. Then he meets Ryan’s eyes, and a dopey grin breaks out across his face. “You’re pretty. You have… a good face. I like it.”

“Thanks, Jeremy, you drunk son of a bitch.” Ryan snorts, tugging him along again, trying to ignore the wishful pang of something that strikes his heart.

“No -” Jeremy states again, stopping. “No, I mean it. I like you.” And, punctuated with an accusatory finger to Ryan’s chest, just over where his beating-too-fast heart lies— “I like Ryan Haywood. The man in here. I love him, I think.”

Then, Jeremy looks up from his focused gaze at his own fingertip, still resting over Ryan’s heart, and stares directly into Ryan’s eyes. He’s being totally genuine, and it shocks Ryan so badly he thinks if he tried to speak it would come out as pure gibberish, more so than usual. He doesn’t even think he’d get a single word out, never mind the full sentence he wants to say. 

But, as soon as Ryan had opened his mouth to try and reply in kind, Jeremy stumbles backwards, a hand coming up to his mouth. It’s as if that just sobered him up almost entirely. He stutters over a few words, taking another two unsteady steps backwards.

Ryan reaches for him before he goes too far in the sand. Wraps a gentle hand around Jeremy’s bicep and tugs him back to where he was. Jeremy has fear, uncertainty, shame - all swirling across his expression, and Ryan’s breath hitches when the whispered “I’m sorry,” comes. Ryan stares at him for a good few seconds, his train of thought finally back on the rails, but this time travelling a million miles an hour, having adopted about a hundred more carriages. Then he throws caution to the wind.

He’s close enough now that Ryan can take his other hand, cup Jeremy’s jaw, and leans in for a kiss that he thinks, honestly, was far overdue. When he pulls back, he moves his fingers ever so slightly down to rest over Jeremy’s pulse point, just to feel the rapid beating, because he’s never felt so alive until that kiss. And if Jeremy felt the same, well. That’s what life is supposed to feel like. Kissing your best friend on the beach as the sun’s about to rise, in a city where you rule the underground. Ryan thinks he’s the luckiest man alive, and he’s got no idea what part of his life let him deserve this.

“I think I love you, too.”

Jeremy’s eyes are still closed, his eyebrows furrowed as if he’s not quite sure if he’s dreaming, but his breath catches. Ryan drops his hand and casually tugs on Jeremy’s arm again, heading back to Ryan’s car without saying another word, but gently bumping each other as they walk closer to one another than before.


End file.
